


Your Lips, My Lips

by Luckie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley has an itty bitty panic attack, Crowley takes care of it, Happy Ending, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Other, Wow love just creeps up on you like a bug when you leave your window open in the summer, just a little i promise, more tender than real life, this is so so tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 23:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckie/pseuds/Luckie
Summary: Just as Crowley occasionally had to shed, an angel’s corporation was afflicted in a different way.





	Your Lips, My Lips

**Author's Note:**

> This has been beta'd by my friend Janice and edited by my friend Bonnie. Named for the lyrics from 'Apocalypse' by Cigarettes After Sex. I have updated it since I last posted it! This will be the final version.

‘This is an unusually hot spring, Crowley.’ Aziraphale did not look up from his tea as he said this. He stared intently as though the tea itself was the cause of the hot season.  


They sat on the couch in the bookshop. Aziraphale made them both tea, a daily ritual they had now. Tea after the bookshop closed, or whenever the day was winding down.  


It hadn’t taken much convincing on Crowley’s part to move into the bookshop. He did keep his flat because, well, he liked the variety. But he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d been there since he miracled a room for his plants above the bookshop. The two of them had never known the intimacies of living with another being before now. It changed them separately and together in ineffable ways.  


Aziraphale had surrendered the bedroom to Crowley’s as his domain, since he used it far more anyway. He kept it free of sentiment and items humans would need, except for the occasional volume about space. ‘Dislike clutter,’ he explained offhandedly one day. It wasn’t true though, Aziraphale's clutter was a joy to get lost in.  


Crowley knew a “hot spring” wasn’t just a comment on the weather. It had been at least a century since he last heard that particular turn of phrase from the Angel and it held a different meaning between the two of them.  


Even prior to the inception of The Arrangement, Crowley and Aziraphale had a lighter, less defined agreement. This agreement was something as natural as breathing between them (as far as beings that don’t need to breathe are concerned). They didn’t need to fuss with definition until it had already happened more times than they could count. It had less to do with their given assignments and more to do with the afflictions of their corporations.  


They were now a year out from the notpocalypse and Crowley had a lot of emotions about hearing this phrase from Aziraphale, as this tacit agreement would need to be discussed at a length much longer than it ever had been. Things had changed between them.  


Just as Crowley occasionally had to shed, an angel’s corporation was afflicted in a different way.  


‘Should we … do something about it?’  


Crowley searched for the smoothest way to phrase his question and fell into an awkward approximation of all he wanted to say.  


Crowley didn’t know how they’d deal with a hot spring now that they lived like this.  


‘I’d like to,’ Aziraphale supplied, and looked to Crowley, ‘If you think we can.’  


Crowley took in the angel’s gaze, thankful that his glasses hid his unrestrained yearning. There were many ways to deal with this, all of which needed privacy and a few of which needed preparation.  


‘Should we, now?’ Crowley felt unprepared; anxiety rose in his chest.  


‘No, that is not necessary, but this week perhaps.’  


Aziraphale watched Crowley’s shoulders relax and his eyebrows lower, not having noticed either were tense to begin with. ‘Are you okay?’  


‘Yeah . . . yes,’ Crowley stammered, as Aziraphale looked on, unconvinced, ‘Will this be different now? Now that we are on the same side?’  


Aziraphale wiggled every so slightly and looked away from Cowley, back to his tea. ‘I hadn’t thought . . . it might be.’  


Crowley closed the distance between them on the couch, placing a hand lightly on the slope of Aziraphale’s shoulders. The reaction was instant, Aziraphale looked fast at the touch and took in a sharp breath. It took effort for him to neither move into the touch or away. A flush spread over his cheeks and neck.  


‘Not right now, dear boy.’  


Crowley took his hand back slowly, with effort.  


Aziraphale was entering a heat cycle. Crowley wasn’t sure of the specifics as to what made them happen, but he had now helped the angel through them countless times every few decades. He didn’t know what Aziraphale had done for the centuries they went without meetings.  


Since moving in with the angel they had shared so much more of each other. Crowley learned things he hadn’t learned in 6,000 years. Aziraphale does like to take the occasional nap in the early morning of unbearably calm Sundays. He puts himself together each day using a mirror and not a miracle. He looks to his signed copy of _Dorian Grey_ that he keeps by the book shop entrance when he leaves and is not in a rush. These things were blink-and-you-miss-them and they were now Crowley’s most cherished facts about the angel.  


He had allowed his feelings to engulf him in a way he hadn’t ever in 6,000 years; his emotions on this matter dictated his needs, not the other way around, for the first time. He needed to help Aziraphale through his heat. He wouldn’t enjoy the angel getting help elsewhere and couldn’t bear to deny him.  


Crowley feared this realisation. He feared this change was one-sided.  
\------------  


The Ritz was empty as could be on a beautiful spring Wednesday afternoon. It was one of the first days in London this spring that it wasn’t threatening rain, and any human would be a fool not to take advantage.  


Aziraphale ate with calculated grace that Crowley could not look away from. ‘I just can’t see the appeal, really’ he said before taking another macaroon off their afternoon tea plate.  


‘No? It’s colourful and pretty to look at and overly sweet.’ Crowley said.  


‘It’s a monster, and it’s frozen and haven't you heard how much of a pain they are to make?’  


‘I have heard it is the work of the devil,’ Crowley said thoughtfully. ‘I bet I could have taken credit for it.’  


‘Take credit for the frappuccino? Or the concept of forced limited availability?’ Aziraphale fished off the last of his tea and gingerly placed the cup and saucer out of his way.  


‘Oh the whole concept, pretentious, complicated, selfish, a real capitalist’s idea. But also the Frappuccino itself; I mean, half of it is made of ice, and the other half is just sugar. The flavour is merely a suggestion, especially with this new one. Tie-dye, what could that possibly taste like? Chemicals and cotton?’ Crowley was mindlessly running his finger over Aziraphale’s abandoned cup. ‘The absolute hubris the company has for this product, it is . . . detestable to me! A demon! What a great accomplishment that would have been downstairs.’ Crowley had much more to say on the subject but he could see Aziraphale was not fully listening. He followed Aziraphale’s gaze to his own hand, moving with lithe and uncoordinated touch over the porcelain cup.  


Aziraphale’s mouth was slack, open just a bit and his cheeks flushed, getting more red. Crowley stopped moving his finger but Aziraphale didn’t react, eyes still locked to it. Crowley had not said a word for nearly two minutes, just watched Aziraphale’s face right back.  


‘We should get back, it seems.’ Crowley brought his hand back to himself and Aziraphale followed it, his eyes glazed over, Crowley tried to make eye contact but Aziraphale seemed to be too far out of sorts, staring blankly.  


Crowley sorted the check with a small miracle to avoid the waiters attention. He got up, guiding Aziraphale to do the same but it was difficult to do without touching him.  


He had to touch him to break the trance. He cautiously reached out, Aziraphale was too far gone to continue to follow him, but as soon as Crowley’s hand was on his shoulder Aziraphale started and stood up sharply, the chair behind him falling.  


His eyes were blown wide, staring down Crowley like he might’ve wanted to take him here and now, on the marble steps of the Ritz. Crowley took a shaky breath.  
‘Sirs, are you quite alright?’ The waiter seemed to confuse Aziraphale enough, surprised they were not, indeed, in a private location yet. Crowley took the opportunity to guide Aziraphale by the arm.  


‘Fine’ Crowley supplied and walked with haste to the Bentley where it was parked on the street outside. He guided Aziraphale delicately by the shoulder into the passenger seat. Aziraphale reached for his hand and looked to the demon’s face. He was breathing hard, his eyes trembling to stay in control.  


Crowley waited and looked to the angel, his hand felt sweaty and uncomfortable over his own. He pulled his hand away and closed the passenger door gently.  


‘I waited too long.’ Aziraphale said duly when Crowley took off from the curb with haste.  


‘I can see that,’ Crowley said flatly.  


‘Crowley, I wanted to . . . figure this out before . . . we do something we’ll regret.’ Aziraphale heaved the words out, straining.  


Crowley wasn’t sure what to say. Would Aziraphale regret this? Those words stung. Crowley’s unnecessary heart beat fast in his chest. He reached out with his free hand and stopped short. 

Aziraphale was watching his hand again, but was silent as they pulled up to the book shop.  


The shop door was barely secure when Aziraphale was on him. The door clicked closed at the same time as their lips locked together. The sound of the door locking untouched rang out. They were both breathing heavy now, struggling to find a rhythm in the desperation.  


They were in the bedroom in a blink and it wasn't Crowley's doing. Aziraphale’s hands were all over him, too desperate to work the intricacies of clothing. He strained and struggled for skin, settling finally at Crowley’s head, holding one at the base of his throat and the other in his hair, musing it beyond easy repair.  


Their teeth bounced off each other.  


‘Erk. ah’ Crowley pulled away, running his tongue over the pain, his face scrunched up. ‘Angel, I’m sorry, give me a minute’  


Aziraphale huffed, letting his hands fall to Crowley’s shoulders as he pulled away. Crowley smiled half heartedly.  


‘Hey,’ Crowley moved a hand to cup Aziraphale's cheek, Aziraphale leaned right into it, eyes fluttering closed in bliss. His cheek was burning hot, Crowley’s serpent blood became blazing warm as it pumped through him. ‘I’ve got you.’ he said, barely audible.  


Crowley started removing Aziraphale’s clothes with his other hand, miracling what would have required two hands to keep one palm pressed firmly to Aziraphale’s cheek. He had removed all of his tops, revealing the plump chest with just a dusting of white hair. Crowley’s own blouse and shirt were suddenly gone, another angelic miracle. Aziraphale pushed their chests together.  


‘Ahh, ha’ Aziraphale melted against Crowley, who felt suddenly so burning hot, the heat radiating from Aziraphale reaching beyond human temperature, like hellfire but with no bite at all. Crowley felt it warm into his skin and muscles and organs and bones. He sighed and they began to move as gracefully awkward as they could onto the bed, Aziraphale on top of him, pinning him down. Crowley felt the angel begin to have tremors coming from his core.  


‘Angel,’ Crowley began moving both hands up Aziraphale’s back, taking him all in, the soft give of his skin under his thin fingers.  


Aziraphale let out a small, soft sob.  


‘Angel, talk to me,’ Crowley guided Aziraphale off of him without breaking their touch, he arranged them on their sides, facing each other, bellies still pressed together and his hands still flat against his back. Crowley tilted the angel's head back by the chin to look into his eyes.  


‘We . . . have changed, Crowley’ Aziraphale’s voice was soft, his eyes looked down. His clarity was rooted only by having touch on his skin.  


‘We could look for someone else to help with this’ Crowley felt his blood turn to ice at what he was suggesting, ‘I know you’re not great with your smartphone but Grindr might help, or Tinder, depends—’ Crowley felt his chest getting heavy with anxiety, ‘on what you might be hoping for.’ He dropped his hand from Aziraphale’s cheek and his breathing became laboured.  


Aziraphale was silent as he grabbed Crowley’s hand and cradled it lightly in his own. He shuffled his other hand to delicately remove Crowley’s glasses. Crowley could feel the pinprick of tears and the urge to blink with abandon, but he resisted.  


‘My dear, I don’t want anyone else for this,’ He looked to the demon, his own eyes glossy with tears. ‘I am in love with you.’  


Crowley took a sharp breath holding the angel’s gaze. His breathing came short and hard and the ice in his veins spread down each of his limbs. He felt his loss of control over his snake eyes as he watched Aziraphale’s gaze quiver.  


‘I have been worried about going into heat since the apocalypse didn’t happen because I no longer have a reason to hold back my feelings.’ Aziraphale brought a hand to Crowley’s cheek and brushed a tear away from his cheek with his thumb. ‘I don’t want to pressure you to feel the same, but I may bond with you permanently if we keep going.’ The angel sighed, looking to his demon expectantly.  


Crowley was shocked at this. One piercing anxiety that was holding him in fear was replaced by another, holding him in bliss. He could exist in this moment forever. He watched Aziraphale’s face, anxious; He had to answer him, but the perfect words weren't coming to him, only stutterings—  


‘And I am concerned I would fall for this.’ Aziraphale looked away from Crowley, to their hands still holding on to each other.  


A smile cracked over Crowley’s face and he felt the whiplash of his emotions, ‘I know what makes an Angel fall and this isn’t it.’ He intertwines their fingers. ‘Six thousand years and demons do talk. It’s a big deal down there. “Why did you fall?” We talk about it often actually. There are so many reasons to fall. I asked questions, some lost faith, some were active detractors from god’s vision. Love doesn’t make a demon.’ Crowley brought up his knee, nudging between the angel’s to press gently between his heat.  


The angel gasped, and his eyes blown wide. ‘I won’t . . . fall?’  


‘Not a chance. You love Her creations so well, you can do no wrong as an angel, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.’ Crowley pressed their foreheads together. 'You can love even me.'  


‘We will finish talking about this later.’ Aziraphale closed the last bit of distance in their faces, bringing them into a slow expressive kiss. Crowley felt they were finally having a kiss that was in tune today. He invited the angel into his mouth and the angel took it, both hands clamped around his head, fingers darted through his hair. Aziraphale started rutting against the demon’s leg and panting into his mouth, needy.  


‘You really waited too long, love.’ Crowley snapped his fingers and their remaining clothes were gone. Aziraphale squirmed at the sudden and flush skin contact, it being exactly what he needed. Crowley pushed him onto his back, opening up his legs even more and pushed his thigh up as far it could go. He met a warm and wet depth, gushing down the angel’s thighs already.  


‘A treat for me,’ Crowley brought a hand down and spread the angel’s second lips with his fingers. The angel rutted for contact, but Crowley stayed in control, massaging the outside then working his way toward the clit once his fingers were fully saturated with slick.  


He flicked over it only once and brought his hand back up. Aziraphale moaned then groaned, a sinful noise to Crowley’s ears, although he knew the angel could only act out of grace.  
Crowley met Aziraphale’s eyes as he licked his two fingers clean. The angel huffed, ‘Please, Crowley,’ he begged.  


Crowley did so enjoy hearing that. He placed both hands on the angels hips and kissed a trail down the soft expanse, loving every inch he possibly could without stalling any longer. He unceremoniously dipped his tongue in and the angel’s hips bucked and stuttered. Crowley held them, just hard enough that his face could not be fucked but not hard enough to hold them fully in place.  


The demon adopted a grueling pace over the wanton angel, making one slow lick from perineum to clit and the angel convulsed below him.  


‘I am going to . . . discorporate,’ the words sounded barely like a squeak.  


Crowley knew it was time to stop toying and he wrapped his lips around the engorged clit, flicking his tongue with force. Aziraphale's hands gripped the demon’s hair tight, pulling on it painfully, but Crowley wouldn’t dare stop now.  


Aziraphale’s hips stuttered again under the demon’s grip and Crowley didn’t stop, allowing his face to get fucked as he upped the pace, continuously flicking and sucking gently. Aziraphale tasted so good—like a moist savoury scone. Crowley grazed his teeth on the labia and Aziraphale started to moan, his thighs coming together.  
‘I . . I,’ he huffed out, hips buckling and stilling ‘Don’t stop,’  


Crowley brought his hand up, trailed up the angel's thigh and slipped two fingers into the angel, curling back inside the sickly soft expanse. The angel’s hips shuddered and Crowley changed the rhythm of his mouth, kissing at the labia.  


Aziraphale took a few panting breaths, and his thighs released the tension a bit. Crowley started to scissor his fingers inside the angel and returned his attention to the clit, flicking faster.  


The second orgasm came quicker and Crowley licked his fingers on the way out of Aziraphale, and lapped up around the soaking wet hole, finally off the clit except for the slight brush of his nose.  


Aziraphale’s hands loosened on his hair, massaging gently into the stressed scalp.  


Crowley pulled back and wiped the back of his opposite hand over his mouth to dry it a bit. He stared down at Aziraphale, every inch of his skin red with arousal, his eyes lidden as he struggled through bliss to look up to Crowley above him, his eyes were glossy with pleasure, his mind still elsewhere.  


Crowley’s own hard cock twitched with desire as it brushed against Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel’s hand grappled for it, but Crowley gathered them in his own hands. ‘Not today,’ Crowley gazed down, stilling over the angel, happy to not satisfy his own corporation just for the chance to look at Aziraphale, out of control.  


The angel’s normal range of expression didn't include unhinged bliss. His eyes had no focus in the best way. In 6,000 years he had never seen this exact face on the angel. Crowley revelled in it, holding his eyes just his face.  


Aziraphale squirmed under the demon’s gaze as pleasure loosened its haze over him.  


‘You love me,’ the demon beamed, taking in all of Aziraphale’s corporation. He began to plant kisses on the plush middle, making a trail of them up to the swollen mouth, but pulling away to lay his head on the soft shoulder.  


‘Let me take care of you,’ Aziraphale’s hands twitched gently in Crowley’s hold.  


‘No, it’s all for you today. We have the rest of forever to do this now.’ Crowley licked at the angel’s neck with his sore tongue. ‘We don’t just have to do this when you’re in heat. I want all of your concentration when you finally pleasure me.’  


Aziraphale shivered, taking one hand back to hold Crowley close, satiated for now, but knowing it would take hours to release him from a heat properly.  
Crowley placed a hand on the angel’s chest and spoke very quietly, ‘I love . . . you too,’

**Author's Note:**

> Hi- I haven't written in so long and my life has recently gotten better very quickly and the ability finds it's way back into my brain. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr- [Spacekingjack](Spacekingjack.tumblr.com)
> 
> or on Twitter- [HumanXanax](https://twitter.com/HumanXanax)
> 
> This was inspired by feeling like my skin was trying to claw it's way off my body and I haven't been able to explain why. 
> 
> I listened to Unloved and Cigarettes After Sex while writing, what song does this fic make you think of?
> 
> I love requests and comments. I am open to thoughtful criticism.


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